watched: låt den rätte komma in (let the right one in). chills set in during the opening shot, as snow drifts across the jet-black night in a working-class suburb outside of stockholm. just snow. on black. and yet it’s the most beautiful shot of snow, tingling with the excitement and possibility that permeates this film. oskar is twelve, very twelve – his nose is runny, and he plays small games with himself, quietly evident in the way he sloshes water through his mouth while swimming. he’s also analytical, and emotionally intuitive, and clever, and adult in all the ways most people forget children are. when the devastating eli, whose husky, sultry voice hums with secrets, appears atop his housing complex’s sad jungle gym, oskar sniffs around her like an abused dog; between his parents’ divorce and some extremely cruel classmates, he has little reason to open his heart to anyone, and yet this unexplained companion commands his attention because – isn’t it always this way? – he likes the way he sees himself through her eyes. she’s twelve – more or less – beautiful and feral, and he tumbles through wonderment, into love.
as if romance and sexual awakening weren’t complicated enough, oskar eventually discerns that eli is a vampire – or, at least, she needs to drink blood to survive – and is responsible for the curious disappearances and murders he’s been compiling into a scrapbook. she’s a dense bundle of preteen desires – she wants to protect oskar from her destructive side, to give him the strength he lacks, to love him and be loved by him – and these are difficult to balance with occasionally having to suck blood and be chased by angry villagers. lindqvist, who has adapted his book into the movie, manages to use all the strengths of the genre without making this a genre film; and while it’s truly, stomach-wrenchingly horrifying, the film doesn’t rely on horror conventions to make it touching and compelling.
the movie is an aesthete’s dream, and not just because it’s beautifully shot; the choices made are consistently challenging and refrain from quirkiness or facility. tomas alfredson’s blue-collar suburban sweden has depth and fragility, and its residents are never just background figures. kare hedebrant’s performance as oskar carries the movie without being at all contrived, and lina leandersson is heart-stopping, her wide blue eyes and stilted, self-conscious body language carrying a whole world of meaning. it’s a beautiful love story, but an uncompromising vision of the world’s cruelty creeps into its telling. what happens when oskar grows up and eli doesn’t? for the attentive, the film holds the answer, and realising it may be the saddest and most horrifying moment. låt den rätte komma in is in limited release in october. go see it.
watched: låt den rätte komma in (let the right one in). chills set in during the opening shot, as snow drifts across the jet-black night in a working-class suburb outside of stockholm. just snow. on black. and yet it’s the most beautiful shot of snow, tingling with the excitement and possibility that permeates this film. oskar is twelve, very twelve – his nose is runny, and he plays small games with himself, quietly evident in the way he sloshes water through his mouth while swimming. he’s also analytical, and emotionally intuitive, and clever, and adult in all the ways most people forget children are. when the devastating eli, whose husky, sultry voice hums with secrets, appears atop his housing complex’s sad jungle gym, oskar sniffs around her like an abused dog; between his parents’ divorce and some extremely cruel classmates, he has little reason to open his heart to anyone, and yet this unexplained companion commands his attention because – isn’t it always this way? – he likes the way he sees himself through her eyes. she’s twelve – more or less – beautiful and feral, and he tumbles through wonderment, into love.
as if romance and sexual awakening weren’t complicated enough, oskar eventually discerns that eli is a vampire – or, at least, she needs to drink blood to survive – and is responsible for the curious disappearances and murders he’s been compiling into a scrapbook. she’s a dense bundle of preteen desires – she wants to protect oskar from her destructive side, to give him the strength he lacks, to love him and be loved by him – and these are difficult to balance with occasionally having to suck blood and be chased by angry villagers. lindqvist, who has adapted his book into the movie, manages to use all the strengths of the genre without making this a genre film; and while it’s truly, stomach-wrenchingly horrifying, the film doesn’t rely on horror conventions to make it touching and compelling.
the movie is an aesthete’s dream, and not just because it’s beautifully shot; the choices made are consistently challenging and refrain from quirkiness or facility. tomas alfredson’s blue-collar suburban sweden has depth and fragility, and its residents are never just background figures. kare hedebrant’s performance as oskar carries the movie without being at all contrived, and lina leandersson is heart-stopping, her wide blue eyes and stilted, self-conscious body language carrying a whole world of meaning. it’s a beautiful love story, but an uncompromising vision of the world’s cruelty creeps into its telling. what happens when oskar grows up and eli doesn’t? for the attentive, the film holds the answer, and realising it may be the saddest and most horrifying moment. låt den rätte komma in is in limited release in october. go see it.